StarWars: Reapers
by W. E. Grimm
Summary: I decided to make my own StarWars Epic. Its about the jedi and sith philosophies. unfinished, will add new chapter almost everyday so please be patient.
1. Chapter 1

_In time, there will be one who will stand against all that has come to be. He shall give rise to the dark ones, his flesh will become their instrument and their weapon; but through him he shall strengthen the light like none before and after the order. He shall be known by the markings of time._

STAR WARS:

The Reapers

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This is a fanfic, I personally do not own any of the Star wars stuff at all. None of the races, cultures, or ideaology. I could continue, but the list is just way way to big to put.

Needless to say, I do not own StarWars or anything in it, or associated with it. I do however own this Fan Fiction, so please enjoy and rate; and if

possible comment. (( and I know, I'm not good at intro pages ))

Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

Shadows painted the faces of the dead, scars on those of the living. The sky was a horrid ebony crow that screamed down at the ground as blue-red lightning snaked and danced across it, rain pelted the ground washing away the blood and the smell of smoke in the air.

The rain came down, soft but cold, and sharp of sound; and in it, a ghost of a person walked.

The smell of burning flesh erupted from them, shooting out into the air around them only to be brought down and drowned in the rain.

Their flesh was black with burns and bleeding through the still burning and smoking cloth; but onward the ghost strode. Driven on.

Mewing came from its arms, upon which it carried a child. A child unmarked and untouched by all that this person had been. Pure in the full.

The ghost looked at the child with its ruined, baked eyes and slowly began to lift it out away from itself, upwards as if to toss the child away like something wicked and cruel.

Or perhaps because its complete purity disgusted the blackened ghost of a being. The child mewed softly.

Bloody foam dripped from the ghost's toothless mouth, the heat had stolen everything from there including it's moisture which was now causing it's mouth to curdle blood up and out.

It's ruined eyes, flexed and began to bleed out a viscous jelly fluid.

Its blackened raw skin began to peel off in the rain, every drop evaporating off of it as they struck, clouding the ghost in a light veil of steam.

A deep guttural sound began to sound from within it, and it sank to its knees; falling mostly.

Bones shattered in it's legs, the flesh sliding right off the shards of destroyed bone.

The guttural sound rising, raising its pitch, going higher and higher.

The ghost's back arched, blood tore through it's weak charred flesh, wetting its smoldering clothing, making them hot and red in the icy cruel rain.

The bloody curdled foam spilled from the ruined mouth, shooting out in increments almost as it continued its sound, the pitch continuing to rise.

It began to scream, but softly, seeming to make the same sound as a boiling tea kettle, bloody foam and all.

"_EEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIII_!!!!" and then it stopped, and coughed raptly before blood began to pour out of its mouth by the liter.

Pieces of cooked bone and flesh escaped its mouth and dripped out as it slowly fell forward, the child it was holding landing softly on the ground without protest.

It slept well, unmarked, save a drop of hot blood that had been smeared across it's forehead.

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That's it for now I will write more later, but it's kind of late, and I really want to make sure I get this stuff up tonight otherwise I would never get it on there. . 

Please rate and comment. Thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

"Master, you must understand, this doesn't make sense." A padawan commented to a small stringent council. "It makes none at all to pass Rem over like this."

"Few things do, but we merely do what is right and act out as the force wills." One of the council emitted, a Wookiee, glancing over at the student's teacher, almost glaring. Their eyes could almost talk…

"But hasn't the force said that he will beco-''

"That's quite enough!" Her own teacher reprimanded her, this time throwing accusatory eyes on her. Her voice had sounded fast and harsh, even cruelly cold; but Jedi do not have such emotions.

"Indeed, it is." One of the council concurred, a Correlian this time, nodding slightly as one hand played with his beard. "Siren, there is a reason none of us will train Rem, and it is… complicated. You have no reason to worry needlessly over something so pointless, he is allowed to stay here for as long as he likes. But we will not train him."

"So that's it? You just won't train him, because of something…?" The padawan looked down at the chambers floor, seeming to admire the beautiful craftsmanship of the intricate patterning's on it. "Ever day the Sith grow in numbers, injustice crowds more and more into the galaxy. The republic is starting to stagnate and our numbers are dwindling away, and you refuse to train someone who is more then capable and reliable?"

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"Siren that was completely uncalled for and inappropriate." Master Tifren, scolded. Her face was rudely contorted, a slight mixture of embarrassment and aggravation. "That will be the last chance you ever get at that while I'm your teacher. If you wish to continue trying to get them to grant training for Rem, you will have to do that once you become a Jedi Knight."

"Yes, Master." She sighed, feeling a bit disheartened. Siren had known Rem forever, and they had grown up together at the Proxeum. They had always talked of becoming Jedi and protecting the galaxy together. Hand in Hand.

Siren absently ran a cold mechanical hand through her hair and her despair deepened abit more, the metaphorical grave for her cheerfulness and regular normal self, was slowly being dug.

_I have no hands._

A shovelful of dirt.

_I don't even have any arms._

Two shovelfuls.

_Instead I have two hard metal prosthetics, which are durable and useful, but not very comforting._

Several shovelfuls, while others begin to use mining lasers.

_I can't even do what I promise. _

"Siren," Her master turned from her just slightly and looked up at the ceiling, almost as if not wanting to admit what she was about to say. "You are right though, that we need more Jedi, and that it is foolish of them not to train Rem."

"Thank you Ma'am."

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Please rate and review sorry about no upadate . if anyone is actually reading...

i'll try to maintain postage. #.#


	4. Chapter 4

Rem sat and watched the oddity of life playing out before him, with a slight Jedi mindset as he studied the people around him. But besides all that, he found the inorder and out-of-placeness of these non-Jedi to be intoxicating and sweet to the taste. _No wonder the Jedi who work as mediators are never around, it's much too fun being around these normal people; I'll need to make sure to come back to this bar soon_. He lifted a drink he had been nursing for awhile and sipped at it gingerly, continuing the study of all of those around him.

A Transhodian and a Duros were discussing ship modifications and the price for such things, which may or may not have been legal considering the large number of Transhodians that were part of the slaving business. Rem, himself, doubted it would be illegal though. _That Duros, I recognize him, that's Jers, he's hired a lot by the council mostly for lesser repair jobs in the Praxeum_. Rem thought quickly of the one padawan who had hacked into the system and had permenantly set a recording of a human uttering flatulence for whenever a door opened. It still brought a curvy smile to his lips, even now, two years later.

Still, Rem couldn't imagine Jers doing anything illegal, otherwise the council wouldn't even bother hiring that Duros_. Because the Council is like a sharp Huurton, they can smell the bad and dirty things on a person_, Rem sipped at his drink again, _They can taste it even, and if they do, they'll bite and won't let go until you change or die._

Across the room there was an Echani who kept winking and waving teasingly at Rem, sometimes he could feel the blush run across his face when she did. She was old enough to be atleast fifteen cycles older then him, he himself was barely twenty cycles. _Such interesting people these non-Jedi are, odd that I'm one of them and inexplicably not._ The paradox was quite a rarity.

The Jedi had raised Rem, they had had extremely high hopes for him when they received him as a child due to his weighty connection to the force. But when he was five, the council issued an order themselves that he was not to be trained as a Jedi at all, but he could stay at the Praxeum to atleast learn what he must to live as a person in the galaxy. So, he had remained, and received an education and everything else one would require to just simply exist; but that was all, he received the minimum just like any other student who was going to become a Jedi.

And he knew why they had done it or atleast believed he did. He belived he knew the reason why they had kept him but wouldn't allow him to be one of them, and it rode skittishly on the eve of his tongue eluding him. Which is _why_ he was where he was, Rem was trying to clear his mind to better focus on what it was; his hand tightened on the glass he was holding, the pale flesh turning slightly red and aggravated as he thought hard.

He had completely forgotten about meeting up with Siren, and that had been due over an hour ago.


	5. Chapter 5

The Nagai stared at the Zeltron, red eyes glowing in the soft light of the cantina. His hair was swept back, thin and white like snow that falls at the birth of winter, in an oddly enduring yet imperious way. His face was hard and stony, the color of his paper white skin adding its part to this, bore a single scar on the side of his temple. He shifted lightly in his chair and glared at her.

"I don't understand," She started, "The everyone knows where the jed-"

"Answer me," He interrupted, his voice empty and rasp.

"They are on Yavin four, the moon that rotates Yavin prime in the Gordian Reach Sector." The Zeltron waitress brushed a lock of ebony hair behind one of her ears and absently touched the side of her face in a gesture that showed the inner workings of deep thought. He watched blankly as she did this, taking in all her movements and actions she played out and did even before he had called her over to be interrogated; she was quite pretty and was trying to use that as a weapon as almost all Zeltrons did, he wasn't here to be her bed-toy though in the back of his mind he thought it could have been quite entertaining. _I'm here for the jedi,_ He motioned for her to come closer as if he couldn't hear her; his eyes glowing in the dim light, small knife-like strips in them for irises_. And you're in my road._

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Screams erupted into the air, some human but most weren't. One in particular takes great strives over the rest as it is the highest pitch and the loudest; it's in huttese and it's growing in it's speed as well as hysteria. It's a near human, a Balosar, who's screaming now; he's the cantina's owner. His antennapalps sticking straight up into the air in an almost comical expression of fear while his red hair hangs in front of his face.

He stared silently screaming at Vala, the Zeltron waitress he had hired recently. Such a waste, such a sad sad thing. He had always thought she was pretty, that she might like him a bit and that he'd be able to become her mate eventually. He had always liked the way she said hello, her smile, and most of all her softly colored red skin. Now he was sure that he'd never become her mate, nor even see her ever again.

She layed across the serving table in the back, where on occasion the cantina had to cook for guests or provide food, a knife in hand. Her chest cavity had been ripped open, her face flayed, and all her blood removed somehow. Standing there one wouldn't think that she could have done that to herself, but when faced with the holo-vids, the truth was undeniable. Vala had killed herself in horrifying way that was completely and utter impossible to have done; but she had.

Years later, once everything had come to past and the few who knew the entire story would speculate often on what had caused this. The reasons for it are numerous. Her previous lover had come back to that particular part of Nar Shadda, She owed many debts some to criminal groups, her addictive behavior that lead to her spice habit, but there was also one other reason. The Sith named Torren.

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"Siren," Rem looked down in embarrassment at his tardiness, he wasn't often late for anything at all. The teachings of Master Corta'an had seen to that.

_'You'll learn time,' _

_'I don't understand master.' A much younger version of Rem said, this one not hiding behind a long sheaf of hair; it had been cut clean and short just like the other younglings, or at least the same as the ones that had hair anyways._

'_Go out into fields, where the Piranha beetles are know to nest and return in exactly one hour.' _

_Not thinking he'd be in any real danger he had nodded in agreement and went out. The beetles had been notorious for killing people who weren't wary of them, first one may bite you then the rest swarm you; tearing away bits and pieces until nothing is left but a pile of bones and whatever clothing you had on at the time. Besides, the master wouldn't intentionally send him off to die, would he?_

_No. Rem didn't think so._

_Not after the first one bit; or the second; or as they had begun to swarm him. At one point or another he gave up and had run back, the bugs swarming around him in a maniac frenzy for blood and flesh. Their wings all a buzz, sounding like soft electricity in the air. _

_Rem hadn't learned time that day; it had taken him many and many more times before he had actually mastered it completely. Corta'an had been a strict and merciless teacher; He didn't care if Rem was hurt, ass long as he wasn't killed. And in time, he had learned time; and most importantly, how to endure pain as well as how to avoid it._

"It's alright, you didn't mean it." She shifted uncomfortably, feeling something deep down that she knew she shouldn't. Jedi have no such attachments. "The council they still-"

"Really, I am sorry." He said again, interrupting her and gently touching her shoulder. "I-… I just lost track of time and…. I'm not sure exactly…," He trailed off. "Besides, we both know what the council said, and even so; Thank you for trying." His eyes met her's and for a moment he wondered if she felt anything for him at all, most because they had known each other since before either could talk.

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Please review and enjoy v. will post more later. i've been busy with D20 games and my friends, sorry...

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	6. Chapter 6

Torren glowered, his eyes glowing softly in the pale light provided by the neon gas tubes in the lower streets. His close fitting robes flapped silently as he walked through the small crowds of people. One hand stole away into his robes and caressed what he carried there; a relic of a lightsaber.

It was ancient and beautifully crafted; truly the pinnacle of sith weaponry. The hilt was bone, he wasn't sure what kind nor did he care and it didn't matter because it was just so beautiful, which had been carved with inscriptions that had been tattooed black. Some were readable, most weren't. The metal that held it was electrum coated, making it gleam when touched by light. And its touch was insatiable, alluring in a hungry sort of way. It demanded to be touched, to be held, and most importantly to be used and soon. He sighed and pulled his hand away in disappointment.

_Blood shall be spilled later, and you shall have your fill of it._

Torren walked toward where he had landed his ship, his gait slow and deliberate. _Give me blood, give me something to slaughter!_ He begged the blade without even realizing it. He had been doing that for quite some time and had never took to knowing that he did. But nothing came, no one dared to near him, they were either too busy to approach him about his strange appearance or just did not notice him. So he boarded the small freighter that he had.

One who was not Torren would have flinched or grimaced at the smell in the ship. It is bitter-sweet and sour, the smell of rot and death. There are bodies lying about, they are putrid and wet; the one in the cargo hold popped the other day, black-green jelly had begun to seem from it's gut. Torren was more then used to the smell, and in fact had welcomed it with a smile when he had first noticed it.

He kicked what had been the captain barely a galactic standard month ago. Something inside sloshed noisily and He smirked.

_'Kill me,'_

_'No, not yet.' Lightning crackled from Torren's hands, searing flesh and eliciting cries of pain. The captain falls over and shivers once he stops, the smell of charred human is nauseating but for Torren it makes his mouth water. He licks his lips tentatively. _

_'Tell me where I can find the jedi,' He glares down at the pathetic thing before him. _

_'I don't know.' _

_'Then die.' The air buzzes softly before exploding into a sea of sparks and lightning. Screams rise and then die off. Torren nears the down human and pulls out a dagger and cuts a piece of flesh away and pops it into his mouth. Delicious. _

Leaning down now, he repeats the process. Cutting away a chuck of meat, and though it has turned black and jellied his mouth waters in anticipation. _So tasty._ Even if the mindless captain had refused to tell him, he knew now, as well as had a nice store of food for the trip.


	7. Chapter 7 unfinished

Rem reached out, grasping cold metallic hands which caused Siren to blush and gasp lightly. She started to say something, maybe a warning like she had the first time he had done this years back when she had her arms; _We can't Rem, atleast we can't let anyone know...._

She restrained her urge to shudder, as images of what had happened that day poured into her head; but some of the good ones making her blush even darker._ "Siren, why is your skin so soft?"_

"I don't know Rem," she said aloud, remembering her reply to him years ago; which in turn eliciated a concerned and greatly confused look.

"Well...um, how have you been lately Siren?" He pulled away slightly, but his grip on her prosthetics remained. They were in truth too long and combersome for her, not only that but outdated; but the fact that Rem would even prefer to touch them... made part of her burn softly.

"Good I think, though I can't seem to pass the requirements for becoming a Knight..." She trailed off looking sullen but not completely downcast.

"I can't even be accepted as a padawan learner," He laughed softly, smirking at her playfully.

_Soft grass tickled at there noses, making Rem sneeze and Siren laugh at him. Moving close she touched lightly at his face, feeling it's curve and texture with her bare hand; her hands of flesh. He had blushed, and made a slight noise before sighing contentadely and touching at her hips._


End file.
